A sky, far, far away
by remind me to breathe
Summary: AU. What if a Muggleborn, a Weasley, and the BoyWhoLived were sorted into Slytherin? Six hours, three desperate children, and a revolution was born.
1. Prologue

_**Title:** A sky, far, far away_

_**Author:** remind me to breathe a.k.a. Claire_

_**E-Mail:** clairestreber24.de_

_**Rating:** PG-13 (to be safe)_

_**Pairing:** none_

_**Time:** 1991, Harrys first year _

_**Disclaimer:** I own not a thing. Due to the fact that this story covers one of the years already written, the majority of the events and some of the dialogue comes straight from the book. _

_**Thanks to: **Healer Molly for the excellent beta_

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_Prologue_

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Great stories don't begin at midnight or at any specific time, they don't have to begin in a frightening or historical place. They don't begin with a bloodcurdling scream or a muffled shot. They begin gradually, in the shadows, when no one is looking. This story begins on September 1st, 1991, somewhere in England. But this story wouldn't be believable and thrilling if you could predict what would happen. On this particular day, nothing happens, nothing too unexpected… _

_What does a three-year old boy think when he realizes that some children are loved and some are not?_

_What does a four-year old girl endure when someone tells her that her mum really wanted to have a boy?How does a five-year old boy feel when all his brothers receive praise and he does not? What does a six-year old boy say when he learns that his good marks aren't as respectable as someone else's good marks? _

How can a seven-year old girl understand that she isn't allowed to paint because it would be useless for her future?

_Who does an eight-year old boy question when his brother gets a new coat and he has never had anything new? _

These weren't unreasonable questions of children. They understood what was happening. They had accepted the hostility of society without question. Maybe their vision of a world where they would be judged only by their actions was unrealistic. Nevertheless, even while their spirits were being broken, they held their heads high into the sky. They simply wanted acceptance, perhaps even retribution. Most of all, they wanted justice and the chance to be themselves.

_Hermione Jane Granger, Muggleborn: a burden to carry for her parents. She would someday be a wife and a mother to one son. She wanted to prove to her parents that a girl could be worth something. She learned, and she waited for her day to come. _

_Ronald Bilius Weasley, Pureblood: the last person on a hand-me-down chain. He would someday be a husband and a fighter for the Light. He played chess because it was the only thing for which he received praise. And he listened, for one day, it would be useful._

_Harry James Potter, Halfblood: a servant during the early years of his life. He would someday be a hero and a role model for the Light. He read the books that his uncle had bought because their covers matched nicely with the new colour of the living room. And he dreamed of the day when he would be loved._

_Their time would come. Can you fight what fate has predetermined? Can the future be changed? Can justice always be served? Does society need a mirror to see its weaknesses? Why don't people learn from history's mistakes? And just what the bloody hell were the former headmasters thinking when they decided to have the magical journey to Hogwarts last six hours?_

_Six hours, three desperate children, and a revolution was born._

_

* * *

_"Five brothers," Ron said. "I'm the sixth in our family to attend Hogwarts, so everyone expects a lot from me. Bill and Charlie have already graduated; Bill was Head Boy and Charlie was Quidditch Captain. Percy is a prefect this year; Fred and George goof around a lot but they get good marks and they're popular. Everybody expects me to be good at something, but what if I end up not being good at anything?" 

"Yeah, I know what you mean," said Harry. "Everyone thinks I'm so special because of what happened ten years ago, but I'm just Harry! I wish I could show people how mistaken they are, that their preconceived opinions are wrong."

"We share the same dream. Someday, Harry, someday we won't be judged by the colour of my hair or by your scar but by our actions," Ron said.

"Escape their judgement?" asked Harry. "No, people have already made up their minds about us. When they see us, they'll think they know who we are because they know our parents, our relatives…our reputations."

The door to of their compartment opened and a young girl stuck her head in.

"Hi – has anybody seen a toad? Wait, what are you talking about? Martin Luther King?" she asked.

"Actually, no," Harry answered, "are you a first-year too?"

"Yes. I'm Hermione, Hermione Granger. And you are…?"

Ron spoke first, "I'm Ron Weasley, and this is Harry Potter."

"The Harry Potter? I've read – "

" - read about me and now you think you know me," Harry interrupted. "You see, Ron, people know more about me than there really is to know. We won't get the chance to show anyone who we really are."

"What are you talking about?" Hermione asked interestedly.

"Prejudices… expectations," said Harry. "Ron, as a Weasley, will never be seen as an individual because half of the world knows someone from his family. It's even worse for me. We'll be judged the moment we step into Hogwarts and get sorted into our houses."

"I understand. I'm a Muggleborn, so I've been stereotyped too," Hermione said.

"We'll never be able to get rid of these images," Ron said dejectedly.

"No, I suppose not," Hermione said, looking preoccupied. "Unless…"

"What?" Ron asked.

"It's a ridiculous idea. You, no, WE would have to stop these opinions from even forming, and that's just what we'll do. We'll shock them all, right from the beginning."

Harry had a puzzled look on his face. "I don't understand," he said.

Hermione sat down. "What if a Muggleborn, a Weasley, and the Boy-Who-Lived were sorted into Slytherin?"


	2. Chapter 1

_**Title:** A sky, far, far away_

_**Author:** remind me to breathe a.k.a. Claire_

_**E-Mail:** clairestreber24.de_

_**Rating:** PG-13 (to be safe)_

_**Pairing:** none_

_**Time:** 1991, Harrys first year _

_**Disclaimer:** I own not a thing. Due to the fact that this story covers one of the years already written, the majority of the events and some of the dialogue comes straight from the book. _

_**Thanks to: **Healer Molly for the excellent (and helpful) beta_

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Chapter 1: If James had known.. _

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"I saw Dudley and Harry at a shop. They appeared to be the same age and yet – they couldn't have been more different. The one behaved like a child should, full of naivety and carelessness; he acted as though he could rule the world. The other, even though he was smaller and a bit younger, seemed older beyond his years. He gave the impression of being tired, battle-weary, but in his eyes, I saw pride and strength of will. If I hadn't known better, I would never have believed they were related."  
A passenger remembers, in "The Fate of the Chosen One"

* * *

_A decade before Harry's first year at Hogwarts…  
_James rushed through the streets, his robes billowing in the wind. He was in another world, distracted by his thoughts. Everybody waved to him, hoping he would wave back. Their efforts were in vain. James hurried on, he didn't see them. He didn't see their phony smiles and their needy waving. He didn't see anything but her, and her eyes. Her beautiful green eyes.  
Peter too could get lost in her eyes. And he did, every time she looked at him. She was everything to him, but she didn't know it. He thought this was for the best. If she ever found out, she would likely never speak to him again. She didn't know the effect she had on him. She didn't know that she was the only one for him, the only one who understood him. She had the same wish he did, the wish to scream and break away from all the expectations, the wish to hide under a desk and wait for the war to be over. She wasn't happy with James, Peter knew this for a fact. Yesterday, her eyes had been red and swollen from crying. Sometimes she seemed so forlorn. Of course, Peter knew that Lily understood the utter despair that he felt with every breath that he took. She felt the loneliness too, the awful loneliness. Peter smiled for the first time that day the moment he saw her. She looked at him and smiled back. His heart began beating faster; he wanted to run to her. Then he noticed the shadow behind him. His heart shattered when he realized that she was smiling at James.  
(_James and not him)  
_His eyes turned cold and he looked away. Someone called out his name and he turned around; it was Sirius. Peter smiled, though the smile didn't reach his eyes, but Sirius didn't notice. Of course he didn't. He was like all the rest of them, insincere, deceitful. However, Peter was just as deceitful.  
He wondered why Lily loved James; they had nothing in common. Peter had always thought it was ironic how similar he and Lily were. She knew that Peter's friends made fun of him all the time and Peter knew that Lily's sister made fun of her. They should be together because they were equals. But she was too preoccupied with James to notice this.  
_(James and not him) _  
But it was James who was with her. He felt her pain, comforted her, probably better than Peter ever could. Peter wanted to forget about her, to escape from her for the rest of the day. His facade took over; he became detached and cold.

"My head is killing me,"he said. "I'm going to see Madame Pomfrey." They nodded and continued their conversation, barely glancing in his direction. They couldn't be bothered by what Peter had to say. They didn't notice the words he shouted into the Floo.  
"_Riddle Manor." _  
_(James and not him)_  
He wanted to be free. Free from lies of a deceitful world, free from his so-called and their deceitful smiles. Most of all, he wanted to be free from Lily Evans-Potter, who had decided in favor of James.  
_(James and not him)  
Voldemort and not her. _

...back into the present..

"What if a Muggleborn, a Weasley, and the Boy-Who-Lived got sorted into Slytherin?" said Hermione.

"What?" asked Harry, startled.

"But Slytherins are evil!" Ron said.

"No, that's just another stereotype. If they were really evil, we wouldn't be able to be sorted into Slytherin because we're good people. Well, we think we're good at least. We don't do anything immoral at any rate. People aren't born wicked, they learn to be that way. Slytherins aren't evil, that's just their reputation," Hermione contradicted.

"That is true, it's just another prejudice. If they were truly evil, all of them would be expelled. Plus, how can a eleven-year old possibly be evil?" Harry said.

"This would be a brilliant chess move; an unknown strategy. The opponent won't know what hit him," Ron murmured. "But how will we make sure we get sorted into Slytherin?"

"Well, the Slytherins are cunning, strategic, and loyal friends. Whatever the sorting rituals are, we will have to argue that we fit those criteria," Hermione said.

"So, we're going to do this?" Harry asked.

"Let's shock the world!" Ron said, grinning.

The toad Hermione had been searching for earlier was long forgotten. From that moment forward, the three of them were friends. You can't experience some things without coming friends. Working to change society's ideas is certainly one of those things.

"Mum is going to kill me," Ron lamented. "All the rest of my family has been in Gryffindor House."

"This won't be the only hardship we'll face from our decision. We will be outcasts, watched and hated by everybody. We will only have each other," Hermione said.

"They should hate us. I'd rather die being proud of myself, being who I want to be, rather than live a lie!" Harry snorted.

"You've read too many books by freedom fighters. They won't kill us," Hermione said.

"Not yet," Ron added.

"Drama queen," Hermione said with a smile.

"I'm afraid that everyone will find out that I don't know anything about magic," Harry said.

"You don't have to worry about meeting any expectations if you're sorted into Slytherin. People will assume you know some things already," Hermione reassured him.

"We, I mean, kids that grow up in magical families don't know that much more than the Muggleborns when they start at Hogwarts, I've heard. The only thing I probably know more about is wizarding traditions and that kind of stuff," Ron added.

"Still, it would be wise if we prepared ourselves somewhat," Harry said. "It would make me feel better."

"I agree. That's why I memorized all our schoolbooks already," said Hermione.

"You what?" Ron and Harry asked in unison, staring at Hermione disbelievingly.

"I thought it would come in handy," Hermione said. "Besides, I love learning."

Harry smiled, amazed by his new friend's intelligence. "Listen, I have an idea. Ron knows about the magical world, traditions, etc. He told me earlier that he's good at chess, so I would guess he's good with strategy too. Hermione, you seem to be good with books and learning. I have money, knowledge of Muggles that only adults should have, and my name. What if we share our talents, you know, teach each other?"

"Sounds like a win-win situation to me," Hermione said.

"I don't know what a win-win situation is, but that sounded like a true Slytherin's plan. I'm in," said Ron.

"Good, I suggest we start right away. We'll have to change everything about ourselves, starting with the way we look. Ron, you'll need a new wand too, it'll work better for you. We'll send Ollivander an owl straight away. We'll also need new clothes, something of our own design," Harry mused.

"Black," Hermione said.

"What?"

"Black, it's the most refined color and it would look good on all of us. We'll buy black robes, notebooks, book bags.."

"Just black?" Ron asked.

"No, we'll use plain silver for anything metal and then use one other color to set a contrast. Let's use the color of our eyes, that's green for Harry, blue for Ron, and hazel for me," Hermione said.

"Brilliant," Ron whispered.

"It's a great idea; it's plain, yet noble, stylish," Harry said. "We can order everything from catalogs."

"How will we get the order though?" Hermione asked.

"It'll arrive once we put Harry's Gringotts key on the form," Ron answered. "How much money do we have?"

"No limits," said Harry grinned.

"Cool. This is something I've always wanted to do," Ron said with a gleam in his eye.

"Someday, we'll have to sort through your investments, Harry. You could be supporting some corrupt ministry without even knowing it," Hermione said.

"We'll have time for that later. First, we have to set up a vault at Gringotts for us. We don't worry about how much we spend on these things, there's so much money," Harry said.

"Are you sure your parents would have wanted you to do this? I mean, your family worked hard for this money," Ron said. He had trouble imagining that money wasn't an issue.

"If my aunt and uncle knew that I have money, they would just take it away. I'm sure my mum and dad would want me to spend their money for a good cause, rather than have my relatives who abused me get a hold of it."

After this statement, they remained silent for a long time.

"You know, we're going to need more appropriate pets," Hermione pointed out.

Scabbers let out a horrified squeak and Ron grabbed him. "We should keep him though. We could use him to test some of our potions on," Hermione said.  
Scabbers tried to escape, but Ron kept a tight grip on him.

"I'm afraid he'll have to stay in Hedwig's cage. You don't like him that much, do you?" asked Harry.

"No, not really. He's just a hand-me-down anyway," Ron said.

"OK, that's settled. How about having a bat as a pet?" Harry asked.

"Sounds interesting…I would like that, or maybe even a spider," said Hermione.

"A spider? Hell, no!" exclaimed Ron.

"Are you afraid of spiders, Ron? There is a simple therapy for that, you know," Hermione said, smiling.

"Whatever, let's just go with the bats, OK?"

"I'm in," said Hermione.

"Me too," Harry said, grinning.

"I already have the perfect names for our bats: Augaue, Antiope, and Arachne."

"A- what?" Ron asked, perplexed.

"Yours, Harry, will be called Augaue. It means noblity, a fighter. Yours, Ron, will be called Arachne. Arachne was a mortal who won a contest against a goddess. Nobody believed she would be able to do this. Plus, Arachne means spider in Latin. I'll call mine Antiope, that name means 'much knowledge,'" Hermione said.

"Arachne – sounds good to me," said Ron.

"Those are great names, Hermione. It's cool that all of the names start with the same letter."

"It's a stylistic device called alliteration. Plus, it does sound cool," Hermione said with a sly grin.

"Speaking of bats, I've heard that one of the teachers at Hogwarts looks like an overgrown bat. His name is Snape, he's the Head of the Slytherin house, and he teaches Potions. I've heard he can be a real jerk," Ron informed them.

"In that case, we should know something about potions, don't you think? Hermione, care to give us an introduction into the fine art of potion brewing?" asked Harry.

"Sure!" Hermione said happily.

"Could we lock the compartment door first? I'm not in the mood for interruptions," Ron said.

Hermione smiled and launched into her lesson. "Well, I have read about this potion…"

Hermione told them everything she knew about potions, which turned out to be quite a bit. After a while, the three students decided to take a short break. They sat in silence, looking out the compartment window, thinking about their plan and their new home. Harry was the first to speak.

"I have another idea; just hear me out on this. We'll have thirty hours a week of lessons and we're awake at least 100 hours a week. That means that we will have 70 hours left over. Calculate 90 minutes a day for eating and showering, which leaves 60 hours that are unused. If we spend those 60 hours learning on our own, by the end of this year, we could have acquired another two years of schooling and we would be at a third year level. Plus, if you study on your own, you learn at a faster rate so we could get to a fourth year level if we really work at it. If we could just find a spell to expand our memory, we could possibly get as high as a fifth year level!"

Ron looked dumbfounded. "That's insane, Harry."

"Maybe. But giving up a year of your life seems like a small price to pay for a life of unfair treatment," Harry said.

"Now who's the Drama queen? Alright, I'm in," Ron said.

Hours later, the Hogwarts Express pulled up to its final destination. Shortly before arriving, Hermione had straightened her hair and Ron and Harry had slicked back their hair with McLissy's Charming Beauty Balm. All three of them had taken on a different appearance than they had had when they stepped on the train earlier that day.

"You never have a second chance to make a first impression," Hermione said while wiping away some dirt from Ron's nose.

The three Slytherin wannabes (who by now knew where to find a Bezoar) wrapped their black robes tightly around themselves. Harry had said earlier that they would have to figure out how to make their robes billow in the wind, he thought it would look impressive. What Harry didn't know then was that twenty years ago, little Severus Snape had had the very same thought. They looked upon their new home for the first time. Without a word, they looked at each other; their shining eyes betraying their calm faces.

Then, a blond, pale-faced boy approached them.  
"My name is Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."


	3. Chapter 2

_**Title:** A sky, far, far away_

_**Author:** remind me to breathe a.k.a. Claire_

_**E-Mail:** claire(at)streber24.de_

_**Rating:** PG-13 (to be safe)_

_**Pairing:** none_

_**Time:** 1991, Harrys first year _

_**Disclaimer:** I own not a thing. Due to the fact that this story covers one of the years already written, the majority of the events and some of the dialogue comes straight from the book. _

_**Thanks to: **Healer Molly for the brilliant beta

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**A/N: READ MY ONE-SHOTs 'Daddy' AND 'My name was Rose' WHILE WAITING. REVIEW. PLEASE.** _

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_The End of the Beginning_

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_  
"I believe we closed our eyes because we didn't want him to see the war. So we overlooked that it was him who fought our battles, and that he wasn't fine, even when he said he was…"  
__Amelia Bones, at the first meeting of the Order of the Phoenix, 10 years after Godric's Hollow. __

* * *

Then, a blond, pale-faced boy approached them.  
"My name is Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." _

Harry smirked. "My name is Bond, James Bond."

Hermione giggled, but Draco, of course, didn't understand the joke.

"Very funny, Potter," spat Draco. "You'll soon find out that in our world there are some families that are better than others. You shouldn't be mixed up with the wrong sort. I can help you to be a part of the right group."

Harry snorted. "Maybe we should continue this conversation later, Malfoy. I don't have any problem with people who have different opinions than me; I even like a little debate now and then. But I'm not going to waste my time on someone who can't even think for himself. When you decide to be your own person, come and talk to me then."

"Your arrogance will be the death of you, Potter," Malfoy hissed.

"Whatever you say, Malfoy," Harry said dismissively.

"I'm going to tell Father –"

"Hermione, did your hear that? How very sweet…he's going to tell his daddy that a big, evil first-year won't listen to his inane babbling. Do you know what, Malfoy? I know that my father would have been proud of me making my own decisions. Why don't you try it, instead of hiding behind your daddy's robes?"

"You haven't heard the end of this, Potter," said Draco.

"Are you trying to intimidate me? If you want to threaten me, Malfoy, do it so that I might actually be scared. Ask your daddy for advice on how to scare people, maybe he can help you."

Malfoy glared at Harry, then turned and stalked away.

Hermione laughed. "That 'snob-talk' sounds great coming from you, Harry."

Meanwhile, Severus Snape assessed the new students.  
"_There's Malfoy, just as haughty as his father, but still obviously lacking on maintaining any dignity...  
Crabbe and Goyle, shuffling around behind Malfoy. Some things never changed…  
Another Weasley, this one though doesn't appear to be nervous at all, how very __interesting... _

_The youngest Zabini, he'll be in Ravenclaw or Slytherin. Probably Slytherin, the look on his face is far too calculating…  
Fat little Longbottom, he'll be a Hufflepuff...  
Bulstrode, most certainly a Slytherin...  
An Abbott –she'll be a Gryffindor or Hufflepuff. Not terribly intelligent, but friendly all the same...  
A cluster of Muggleborns, every last one of them frightened and shaking. No – the girl beside the Weasley boy, she had a determined look on her face. She would be in Ravenclaw…  
And that leaves Potter. Just like his father with the same arrogant attitude and he's already bullying Malfoy. Seven years I've waited for Potter – seven years, for revenge. He'll be in Gryffindor, no doubt..._

Albus Dumbledore leaned toward Snape, shaking him from his thoughts.

"The one who has the most correct guesses gets a bottle of Firewhiskey, correct?" inquired Snape.  
"Like every year," said Dumbledore as the sorting began.

"Abbott, Hannah," Professor McGonagall called out.  
"Gryffindor," said Dumbledore.  
"Hufflepuff," said Snape  
"HUFFLEPUFF!" roared the Sorting Hat.  
"That's one for me already," Snape said.

"Bulstrode, Millicent."  
"Slytherin," Dumbledore and Snape said in unison.  
"SLYTHERIN!" the Sorting Hat called out.  
"That's two to one for me," Severus Snape said gloatingly.

Professor McGonagall gave Snape a severe look, and the grin slid from his face. He suppressed a laugh, turning his attention back to the sorting.

"Geoffrey, David"  
"Slytherin," whispered Dumbledore.  
"Ravenclaw," murmured Snape, watching Professor McGonagall warily.  
"RAVENCLAW!"

"My, my, I seem to be losing my touch, that's five to seven to you, Severus," said Dumbledore with a twinkle in his eye.

"Granger, Hermione," called Professor McGonagall.  
"Gryffindor, most certainly," Dumbledore said.  
"No, it has to be Ravenclaw," said Snape.

_Meanwhile, an argument raged between Hermione and the Sorting Hat.  
"Ah, a cunning one. You've made friends already, but you're plotting something. You seem to be very courageous..."  
__"Slytherin, Slytherin, I need to be sorted into Slytherin," Hermione thought.  
__"You are a Muggleborn," the Sorting Hat pointed out.  
__"And you are a narrow-minded rotten piece of fabric," Hermione thought.  
__"Sharp words are something that Gryffindors use."  
__"Don't you dare!"__  
"Ravenclaw, then?"__  
"No, I said Slytherin. Otherwise, I'll show you what a Muggleborn can do with an old piece of fabric. Ever heard of the concept of recycled toilet paper?"  
__"Tsk, tsk...Maybe it's time for a change. Good luck, little one."  
" _It has to be SLYTHERIN!" the Sorting Hat yelled._  
_  
"What?" Snape whispered, astonished. Immediately, the Great Hall broke into conversation, many students knew that Hermione Granger was a Muggleborn, and it was unbelievable that she had been sorted into Slytherin. Snape watched as Hermione nodded to her friends. "If she's disappointed, she's doing a great job of hiding it," he thought to himself.

The whispering among the students died down as more first years came forward to be sorted. Finally...

"Potter, Harry," McGonagall called.  
"The Harry Potter?" someone said.  
"Does he have the scar?" another asked.  
Snape noticed with amusement that these comments seemed to annoy Harry. That was something he could use…

Snape turned to Dumbledore and said, "Gryffindor, I'm sure."  
"I agree," said Dumbledore.

_Meanwhile, Harry and the Sorting Hat had started their debate.  
__"Harry Potter...I remember your parents."  
__"You and everyone else. You can read thoughts?"  
__The hat chuckled. "Yes, and memories, talents, wishes, and..."  
__"I feel sorry for you. If I'd have to hear Malfoy's deepest desires…"  
__"There is a reason why I sent him directly to Slytherin without hesitation, young man."  
__"Without even thinking about? Isn't that part of your job?"  
__"Hmm, harsh words from you also...you must be plotting along with the Muggleborn..."  
__"You got it. Sort me into Slytherin. You already know my reasons."  
__"Good luck to you, Harry Potter. You're going to need it. SL-"  
__"Wait a moment!" Harry interrupted.  
__"What is it now?"  
__"You know whatmy talents are?"  
__"Of course."  
__"What will I be good at?" Harry wondered.  
__"Despite what the Dursleys have told you, you are neither lazy nor dumb. You are cunning and-"  
__"No – not personality shit – magical talents!"  
__" Your strengths will lie with Potions, Runes, and Parseltounge."  
__"Parsel-what?"  
__"That was enough information. You are going to get me in trouble already..."  
_"SLYTHERIN!" the Sorting Hat shouted.

The Great Hall went silent. Professor Flitwick choked on his drink.  
Severus Snape's face was a mixture of shock and fury. The color of Pomona Sprout's face matched her white robes. Harry stood up, walked over to the Slytherin table and sat next to Hermione. Nobody spoke. Harry smirked and whispered loudly so everyone would hear.

"They aren't very good at hiding their astonishment, are they, Hermione?"

Once again, the Great Hall erupted with talking and whispering. The Boy Who Lived, sorted into Slytherin! Minerva McGonagall was the first one to recover from the shock; she realized her mouth had been hanging open with surprise and she quickly closed it. Finally, a very thoughtful Albus Dumbledore asked her to continue the sorting ceremony. Once the Sorting ceremony resumed, Harry smiled at Ron's twin brothers as they looked at him, confused. Then Harry nodded toward Ron, and they suddenly realized that their little brother had been sitting in the same compartment as Harry. They paled, fear in their eyes.  
Dumbledore watched Harry closely. He knew Harry had already had a run-in with Draco Malfoy. He wondered to himself if he had made a mistake sending Harry to the Dursleys. He hoped that history wouldn't repeat itself.

_Meanwhile, Ron Weasley was having his turn with the Sorting Hat.  
__"Ronald Weasley, eh? A chess player, correct?"  
__"Are chess players sorted into Slytherin?"  
__"No, typically they are in Gryffindor or Ravenclaw."  
__"Then I hate chess."  
__The hat laughed, amused by the young man's resolve.  
__"You want to be sorted into Slytherin also. Why?"  
__"I'm smart, shrewd, and I like snakes."  
__The hat laughed again.  
__Ron realized he had made a mistake. "Err…that's more like a Gryffindor if I tell you my strengths, right? In that case, I'm dumb, blunt; I love lions, hate snakes, all Slytherins are evil, Dumbledore is an idiot, and I'll set you on fire if you don't put me where I want to be-"  
__"Enough already! I don't want to hear anymore…"  
_"SLYTHERIN" the Sorting Hat shouted

In the end, neither Snape nor Dumbledore remembered who had won the bottle of Firewhiskey that night. Nonetheless, it had been a memorable night with a Muggleborn, a Weasley, and a Potter being sorted into Slytherin. When the feast was over, the teachers met in Dumbledore's office to have a few words with Alistair, the Sorting Hat.

"Why?" everyone asked simultaneously.  
"Why what?" the hat asked, amused.  
"Potter? Weasley? The Muggleborn? Why would you sort them into a House they don't belong in?" Snape asked, beside himself with anger.  
"Severus, Severus...listen to your words. They weren't prejudiced, but you are," the Sorting Hat said.  
"But I thought…I mean, Lily and James..." Minerva McGonagall stammered.  
"They aren't looking for power, if that's what you are worried about," said the Sorting Hat.  
"But why - ?"  
"This isn't the time for this conversation."  
The teachers sighed, exasperated with the talking hat.

"Severus, I would like a word in private," said the Sorting Hat.  
The other teachers left the room, shaking their heads, still puzzled by the Sorting Hat's decisions.  
"Why Alistair? Why Potter?" asked Snape.  
"I told you, this isn't the time for these questions. Would you be so kind as to just accept my decision?"  
"A bit touchy today, aren't you?" Snape teased.  
"It's not every day I have my life threatened. They wanted to burn me, have me hear the Malfoy boy's deepest desires and turn me into toilet paper."  
Snape's crooked smile grew larger. "Who said those things?"  
"Why do you want to know? So you can thank them, or do you want to know so you can get them into trouble?"  
"How – "  
"You forget, dearest Severus ('Don't call me dear' thought Snape) that I can read thoughts."  
"Oh…right. You wanted to speak with me?" asked Snape.  
"Some children in your house have some serious problems; you will need to be careful," the Sorting Hat said sternly.  
"Some parents aren't very kind. I know that all too well," Snape said.  
"This is a very precarious situation. I want you to keep a watchful eye on your students."  
"Who exactly?" asked Snape, his interest peaked.  
"It's not my place to say, just watch your charges closely."  
"Alistair?"  
But he received no response. The hat had gone silent for another year.

_Meanwhile…_  
The Slytherin prefects led the students down to the dungeons. When they reached the common room, one prefect addressed them.

"Listen up, Slytherins. The rooms begin behind that door. Everybody can choose their own room, but if someone else wants the same room as you, you will have to fight for it. No permanent spell damage is allowed. At eight o'clock sharp, your choice will become permanent and cannot be changed. Professor Snape will come to your new room and welcome you. If you don't pick a room, behind this door there are more dormitories for the first years. You can choose to sleep there, but you don't have to. Good luck."

The prefects looked around at all the students then walked out of the common room without another word.

"This is a test," Hermione said quietly. "But what are they trying to find out?"  
"It's obvious. The strongest will get the most beautiful room," Harry answered.  
"But that's exactly what I don't understand. This isn't about strength. This is about calculating," Ron said. "We shouldn't look for a big, beautiful room, but one that is strategically placed. With a few charms we can expand any space, and we can transfigure nearly anything we want, well, Hermione probably can, at any rate."  
"Strategically placed…that would be near the exit, by a few secret passages, and far away from the teachers," Hermione said.  
"Exactly," Harry concluded. "The ideal room will look nondescript, absolutely unattractive. We won't be able to see the secret passages."  
"Of course. But how exactly will we find them?"  
"Infrared," Hermione said. "We'll have to measure the temperature of the walls."  
"We don't have an infrared camera," Harry said. "Ron, is there a charm we can use to find out temperatures?"  
"Yeah, why?" asked Ron, baffled.

Severus Snape sat in his office, amused as he was every year, looking at a map that showed the Slytherin rooms. On this map, he could see anything that had to do with magic, students, larger objects such as furniture, etc. As it happened every year, some students fought to get the best rooms. Idiots. And like every year, nobody saw through this little test.  
The first years had gone for the safe dorms, all except for three students. It seemed that Potter, Weasley, and the Muggleborn had decided to try their luck and look at other rooms. Could it be that these three understood the purpose behind this test? Snape watched them walking through various rooms, stopping in the middle, performing a charm, and then walking directly into the secret passages. Snape thought to himself that he could have used this charm when he had been in school… which charm were they using?  
Just then, he watched them settle into the most useful room. It was safest, had just one entry, and access to at least ten secret passages including one to get to the library, the Great Hall and the kitchens. Snape ran his hands through his hair, exasperated. Of all the students for him to get, why Potter? What had he done to deserve this? Draco, on the other hand, had chosen the Blue room. A beautiful room, no doubt, unfortunately it was also haunted. The former inhabitants had gladly left it without a fight. Stupid child! And this boy was supposed to be the pride of Slytherin!  
Snape sighed; it was already time to welcome his new charges. He swept out of his office and headed down to Potter's room. He stopped just outside of the door and listened to the three children talk.

"Why did he leave you with the Muggles?" Weasley asked.  
"He told me it was because Petunia was my only living relative," Potter said. "But I think the real reason was that he wanted me to like Muggles. If I would judge Muggles from the behaviour of my dear relatives-"  
Snape took a deep breath and opened the door to their room. Albus had warned him to be nice. Be nice to a Weasley, a Muggleborn, and a Potter? Merlin, he would need a large brandy after this, maybe three.

Snape looked around the dormitory room. It was a bit dark but beautiful just the same with bookshelves lining all the walls. He had not expected this. Potter and Granger were sorting through books and Weasley had opened his chessboard. They stopped what they were doing and looked up at Snape.

"Good evening, Professor," they chorused.  
"At least they know how to behave," Snape thought to himself.  
"Good evening. My name is Professor Snape and I am your Head of House. You will come to me if there are any problems or if you suspect someone is up to something. Do not lose points for this house. Do not get on my bad side, although I am your Head of House, you can still get into trouble with me. Do I make myself clear?" He gave Potter a stern look, but the boy didn't look away.  
"Yes sir," they said in unison.  
"We are going to be together for the next seven years," he said as he continued his standard speech. "I want to know a bit about you. Who are you? What is your family like? What are your interests?"  
Hermione, Ron and Harry shared a look, and then Hermione spoke first.  
"I'm Hermione Granger and my father and mother are both dentists. I'm interested in reading and logic puzzles."  
"Both of your parents are Muggles?" Snape asked,  
"Yes, sir."  
"What do they think about you coming to school here?"  
Hermione snorted disdainfully. "They don't care what I do, just as long as I get married someday and have children."  
Severus Snape raised his eyebrow; her remark surprised him.  
Ron spoke up next. "I'm Ronald Weasley. You probably already know my parents and all my older brothers. I'm interested in reading and playing chess."  
"A Weasley that plays chess?"  
"Yes, sir."  
Once Ron was finished, Snape nodded to Harry.  
"Harry Potter. My family consists of my aunt Petunia who is a housewife and my uncle Vernon who is a company boss. I'm interested in reading."  
"What are you reading right now?" asked Snape.  
"The Last Days of Mankind by Kraus, sir."  
This shocked Snape, that book was well above what your average eleven year old would read. "Who gave you that book?" inquired Snape.  
"No one. Uncle Vernon threw it away because the color of the book cover didn't match the color of the new living room," Harry said with disgust.

Snape surveyed all three students one last time, handed them their new schedules for classes and left their room. It had been an interesting conversation, though they didn't give him much more information he didn't already know, except for Hermione's comment about having children. That was probably for the best, he didn't want to know much about them, he didn't like them anyway. Unbelievable, he had just been civil to Potter! Dumbledore would be pleased. Snape could already hear him saying something to the effect, "That wasn't that hard now, was it?"

"Is there a way to stop spells like this Finite Incantatem you mentioned earlier on the train?" Ron asked.  
"Write that down on our research list. Now, I remember reading something about Runes, but I can't remember exactly what it was. I think with Runes you have to draw and experiment," Hermione said.  
"Sounds interesting. I repaired a lot of stuff at the Dursleys. I'd like to do that," Harry said.  
"Good. That can be your special project," said Hermione.  
"My special project?" asked Harry, bemused.  
"Yes, I thought everyone could concentrate on one special project," Hermione said.

"Imagine what we'll be able to do in seven years," Ron said thoughtfully. "I want to do something with my mind. Reading thoughts, telepathy, something like that."  
"I'd like to do something with alchemy or arithmancy. That sounds fun to me," Hermione said.  
"You do like A's, don't you?" Ron asked, laughing.  
Hermione stuck out her tongue at Ron, "Thhhppt!"  
"Well, this is a highly intelligent conversation. Let's continue it on Sunday, shall we?" Harry said.  
"When should we get up tomorrow?" Ron asked.  
"Half past four. We'll have breakfast at five, read until eight; then lessons, homework, library, and lastly, bed," Harry said.  
"Who made you the boss?" Ron asked.  
"I did," Harry said grinning. "Good night."

"Ron?"  
"Yes, Hermione?"  
"Are you asleep?"  
"Oh shut up, you two! I want to sleep!" Harry yelled.  
"Yes, boss!" Ron and Hermione said together.  
"My _name_ is Harry."  
"Why do you state the obvious?" Ron replied.  
Harry snorted. "Slytherins..."


	4. Chapter 3

_**Title:** A sky, far, far away_

_**Author:** remind me to breathe a.k.a. Claire_

_**E-Mail:** claire(at)streber24.de_

_**Rating:** PG-13 (to be safe)_

_**Pairing:** none_

_**Time:** 1991, Harrys first year _

_**Disclaimer:** I own not a thing. Due to the fact that this story covers one of the years already written, the majority of the events and some of the dialogue comes straight from the book. _

_**Thanks to: **Healer Molly for thesuperb beta_

* * *

_The good guys, the bad guys…and us_

* * *

_"He was an acerbic, determined worker. In__ the beginning, he concentrated on Potions, which nearly drove Severus mad. He must have worked several hours a day to possess the skill he soon showed in lessons. Later, he learned Runes as well. I don't know why he was suddenly so interested in them. We began to worry when he started to research the rise and fall of You-Know-Who in old newspapers because, as he said, history books were written by the winners. If only we had known what he really wanted to know!"  
Filius Flitwick, writing about Harry Potter, in a letter to his sister, June 98

* * *

_

"Wake up!" Hermione called.

"Coming, Aunt Petunia," mumbled Harry into his pillow.

"Petunia? This is Hermione! We're at Hogwarts and this is our first day, remember?"

"Hogwarts?" Harry asked sleepily. Then he remembered what had happened. Magic. Slytherin. Ron. Hermione.

"Yes, darling…Hogwarts," Hermione said.

"Who's a darling?" asked Ron as he walked into the room.

"Idiot," Harry murmured.

"That's sweet of you to say, but I still don't know who the idiot is and who the darling is," Ron said. "Well, there was just Hermione and you in the room. She was the one talking, so you must her darling idiot…"

"Bloody hell, shut up!" Harry yelled.

"Obviously at this time of the morning, Harry isn't in such good spirits. I wonder if cold water would help his mood..." Ron said to Hermione.

"Cold water? Are you crazy?" Harry asked.

"No. But I want you to get up," Ron said.

"Speaking of spirits, you know what we should do? We should pay Malfoy a visit," Harry said, grinning.

"Just get up Harry!" Hermione said.

"Only if we pay him a visit!" said Harry with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"But…" Hermione hesitated.

"Please?" Harry pleaded.

"Get ready," Hermione said, resignedly.

"Is that a yes?"

"Yes," said Hermione. "First though, we'll shower, prepare today's lessons, read the papers and order some books."

"Read the papers?" asked Ron.

"I'm having some of the most influential newspapers in the world delivered," Hermione said as she pulled out a stack of papers.

"This is…how do I say this tactfully… a bit much," said Ron.

"The integrity of some newspapers is questionable, Ron. So, I think it's necessary to compare them."

"We have to read _all_ of them?"

"Everybody reads a third of each paper. We'll each take sections, for example, Ministry or Money. Articles about significant topics will be collected, and then we'll write a summary about it. Then we'll have an index to keep everything organized. This way we'll always have information about important people and events at our disposal," Hermione stated.

"That is sooo much work," Ron whined.

"Oh hush Ron, it's a half an hour out of your day," Hermione said. "Just think of the possibilities if we find any contradictions between two papers."

"Blackmail," Harry said with an evil grin. "This sounds like fun!"

It was good that Albus Dumbledore hadn't seen Harry's smile just then.

"Look!" exclaimed Hermione. "Somebody broke into Gringotts!"

"Wow. We should think about doing that too," said Harry.

"Harry! I thought Gringotts was safe..." Hermione said.

Harry shook his head. "Well, it _was_ safe."

"Does it say what they stole?" Ron asked.

"Nothing was taken. But why did you say 'they'? What makes you think it was more than one person?" Harry asked slyly.

Ron rolled with his eyes. "Sorry, wrong phrasing."

"Ron just volunteered to read the money sections," Harry called out to Hermione.

"Did he?" Hermione said brightly. "That's fine; he'll read that section for the whole year."

"Hey!" Ron yelled.

* * *

That very same morning, Severus Snape was rudely awakened.

_"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" _A terrified scream echoed down the corridors.

_  
_First years. Hadn't he told the older students to leave the first years alone for at least the first few days? Sighing, he got out of bed and looked at his map. All of the second years up to the seventh years looked as though they were still sleeping. That was understandable; the perpetrators would know that Snape would look at his map and were probably acting as if they were still asleep. He also noticed a commotion in Potter's room. He didn't care. They would just have take care of themselves. It was total mayhem in Draco's room however and Snape hurried to him.

"What is going on in here?" Snape asked as he ran in. He glanced at Draco who was drenched from head to foot and nearly crying. "_A Malfoy crying, what a site! _" he thought to himself.

"There were figures in dark robes and they attacked us with ice-cold water!"

_"Figures in dark robes...that could be serious__," _Snape thought.

"How many were there?"

Draco hesitated. He had seen only three figures in dark robes, but there were three of them too, so they should have been able to defend themselves...

"Four or five, at least. They were very big."

"Alright, I'll charm you dry, and then I'll look for them." He quickly performed the charm to dry the boys and then swept out of their room.

_"Four or five of them…this sounds like something Flint and his gang would do...ice-cold water...if they dare pretend that they were asleep..."_ Snape fumed.

* * *

The trio had breakfast very early. They didn't want to be confronted by Ron's brothers and they certainly didn't want to receive a howler from his mum.

"The papers this morning didn't seem too reliable," Hermione mused.

"They're probably controlled by their owners," Ron pointed out. "You see, the Nighthawk is under probably under Gringotts' thumb while the Daily Prophet is clearly controlled by the Ministry."

"That could be the editors work," Harry pointed out.

"Yes – but who pays the editor?"

"The owner," Harry answered, nodding his head. "I get it. Do you think we could buy the papers out and make them more independent?"

"That wouldn't be easy. I think if I was the editor or the owner, I wouldn't want one single person to dictate everything."

"But you wouldn't care if it was owned by more than one person?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah. Then there would be enough different opinions," Ron said.

"We could really do this… we would just have to buy shares very slowly under various names. We'd have to be careful to buy just the right amount of shares, never too few, never too many. We would have to buy shares in other things too, not just newspapers, so that nobody becomes suspicious," Harry murmured. "But how do we get different identities?"

Hermione grinned. "I have an idea. Saving accounts in the Muggle world can be opened without any identification, they just use your name. We could open an account under a fake name, transfer it to the Muggle section of Gringotts into a new vault – and Voila! - a new person is born!"

"Then we could even order things with age restrictions!" Ron said.

"It will take a LONG time to buy out all those newspapers," Harry pointed out.

"True, but we're going to be at Hogwarts for _seven_ years. We'll have plenty of time," Hermione pointed out.

"Don't you think that others might have had this same idea?" Harry asked.

"They could have, but they don't have access to different identities and they don't have as much time as we do. Plus, they don't have a friend who just happens to be one of the richest wizards in the country."

"They don't?" asked Ron.

"No."

"Okay, let's join the stock market! But, like I said, we can't just buy shares in newspapers, people would become suspicious," Harry said.

"Hmm…we could buy different things depending on the identity we create. Clothes, sweets, books, and so on, maybe even potion ingredients…useful things with a constant yield, " Ron said excitedly. The other two smiled at his enthusiasm.

"Guys – we're _eleven!_ We should be playing with Barbies and stuff – not trading shares!" Hermione said.

"Barbie? What's a Barbie? What Hermione said about playing gives me an idea. We could do our money business in public, so people wouldn't get suspicious. We'll 'pretend' to play the world market. One galleon is in reality a thousand galleons. If I say, five galleons on emeralds, Hermione writes that in her notebook. In reality though, she buys shares of emeralds worth five thousand galleons. Anybody who might be listening will think this is just a stupid game by children pretending to be adults. But we'll really be doing it," Ron said.

"Brilliant," Hermione murmured.

Ron continued. "We'll open two vaults today, ten galleons in each. I'll buy one galleon's worth of shares of Flourish & Blotts. Could you write that down, Hermione? Harry – do you want to buy shares, too?"

Harry smirked. "I'll just have to watch the market for a while. It looks like you'll be our new expert."

"Classes are about to start," Hermione informed them.

"Potions, is it?" Harry asked warily.

"Yeah."

"Don't worry, Harry, we're prepared."

* * *

Severus Snape stormed into his classroom.

"You are here to learn the complex science and exact art of creating potions," he began. He spoke in no more than a whisper, but the class understood every word he said. "There will be no foolish wand-waving in my class. Many of you won't believe that potion making has anything to do with magic. I don't expect you to see the beauty of a slightly simmering cauldron and shimmering stews, the gentle power of liquids running through human veins, hexing the head and captivating the mind. I can teach you to fill glory into bottles, to brew esteem, even to stop death – as long as you aren't a big bunch of cretins, like I always seem to have in my classes."

The class remained silent after his little speech. Harry, Ron, and Hermione grinned at each other. That was a good entrance!

"Potter!" Snape barked suddenly. "What do I get if I add asphodel to wormwood?"

"The Draught of the Living Death, sir."

If Snape was surprised, he didn't show it.

"And where do I find a bezoar?"

"In the stomach of a goat, sir."

Snape was looked around at the rest of the class. "Why aren't you writing this down?" he snapped.

Harry, Ron and Hermione looked at each other again. Yes, these lessons would be a challenge, a welcome challenge.

"This is like cooking," Harry thought as they began working on their first concoction. Harry's potion had turned the correct color, but Snape didn't bother to notice this.

"I think if he doesn't criticize you, you can think of it as praise," Ron murmured, barely audible.

Harry's mouth twitched.

"Potter – care to share the joke?" Snape snarled.

Harry swallowed, but then he had an idea. A boy at a nearby table was about to make a serious mistake with his potion, so Harry decided to help him out.

"I was wondering what would happen if you added the porcupine quills to the potion before turning off the fire, sir."

Snape didn't mention that he really had no idea what would happen. He did notice however that the Longbottom boy flinched and quickly corrected his mistake.

"_That sneaky little…" _Snape thought, then swept away across the room, fuming.

Harry thought that if Snape was so angry that this mistake didn't happen that it was worth trying on his own. He grabbed his notebook and wrote it down. He then turned his attention back to his friends.

"Hermione?" asked Harry.

"Yes Harry?"

"Do you think there's a possibility that Snape hates me?"

"Maybe, but you shouldn't care. Nobody likes us," Hermione pointed out.

"But we have each other," Ron added. "We don't need them."

"Damn," Harry murmured. "It's so unreal. We're eleven, buying shares on the world market and trying to control the media."

"Would you rather play with Legos instead?" Hermione asked with a smirk.

"No. Let's go to Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Yeah, we'd better get going. By the way, what's a Lego?" Ron asked.

* * *

Professor Quirrell's lesson turned out to be rubbish. His room stank of garlic; everybody said it was to keep a vampire away. His turban, he said, was a gift from a prince in Africa, for whom he had killed a zombie. When Seamus Finnigan, a Gryffindor, asked how he had killed the zombie, Quirrell blushed and started to talk about the weather. Harry was distracted throughout the entire lesson by his scar prickling. But if somebody had read his notes from the lesson, they would have found this list:

_Which school did Quirrell attend? He must be somewhat competent if he graduated._

_Are there princes in Africa? Is there a symbolic meaning for turbans? What other use could the turban have if the story was a lie?_

_Strange stuttering: P-p-p-otter vs. Pot-t-t-t-er; he can say "triumphal success" but can't say "weath-th-ther…"_

_What are we supposed to be learning? They would have to buy other books for independent studying._

_Others must have thought there was something off about him; did anyone else ask questions?_

_What could smell so disgusting that he would need garlic to disguise it?_

_What can make curse scars hurt?_

_And most importantly: Am I just being paranoid?_

"It appears we have a lot work to do," Hermione said after she had read Harry's list. "The stuttering was something I hadn't noticed. I just tried to ignore it."

"I tried to ignore the whole person," Ron grinned.

"Well, he isn't completely useless," Harry said. "He is going to be the first 'object' we'll watch."

Meanwhile, Severus Snape, who was walking towards the library, overhead the trio's conversation and stopped to listen.

"Object! Harry! He is not a – thing!" Granger shouted.

"Don't say he's a wonderful person who has _feelings_…" Potter sneered.

"But – "

"He's hurting me! My scar hurt all throughout the lesson. I flinch when he just _looks_ at me. Why should I trust him, even if he is a teacher? I'm not saying that he is evil…yet, but I am going to watch him," Potter said, visibly forcing himself to speak calmly.

"Okay, Harry. I understand. Even Snape _("They weren't talking about me?" Snape thought)_ seems more trustworthy than he does. Maybe you have good reason to be paranoid. You aren't going to do something unbelievably stupid if you find out what he is up to, are you?" Granger asked.

"I – Hermione…we have already done something unbelievably stupid," Potter said.

"Do you regret it?"

"No. I don't regret anything."

"Harry! Hermione! You two sound like a trashy novel!" Weasley said. "By the way, I put another galleon on Flourish & Blotts."

"Because you want to buy more shares?" Potter asked.

"Idiot, I'm not that stupid. Today there was a report about a Nundu-attack and the Daily Prophet recommended some books to read on the subject. I want to find out how the attack will affect our investments."

Severus Snape would ponder the conversation he had heard for a long time. _He_ was the evil one, dammit. So whom were they talking about? A year would pass before he would remember the rest of the conversation and ask Harry Potter what the unbelievably stupid thing was that he had done. Then he would ask him if he regretted it.

* * *

Somewhere in a plain house, a red-haired woman sat in front of Wizarding Wireless set. She didn't hear the broadcast though, instead she stared at the clock on the wall. 19:22:01, 19:22:02, 19:22:03, 19:22:04, 19:22:05...Yesterday, her youngest son had been sorted into Slytherin. She felt guilty. After Ginny, her sweet little Ginny, was born, Ron didn't get as much attention. Her husband had told her not to worry, Ron would turn out just fine. What was the problem if you sacrificed a few hours of your day because you wanted to be a perfect mummy? 19:22:39, 19:22:40, 19:22:41...

Somewhere deep down in the Slytherin dungeons, a blond boy sat in front of a mirror and brushed his hair. 784, 785, 786...His own mother had said that he was obsessed with his hair and vainer than even she was. What was the problem if you sacrificed a few hours of your day because you wanted to look perfect? 792, 793…

A few rooms away, a little raven-haired boy stood in front a table and practiced cutting potion ingredients. A little charm showed him how accurate his angle was. 29.8, 30.1, 30.1, 30.0, 29.9, 29.7, 30.0, 29.4 –damn-, 30.0, 30.0...Hermione had told him that he was obsessed with proving himself to Snape. What was the problem if you sacrificed a few hours of your day because you wanted to be perfect at some basic skills? 30.1, 30.0, 29.9, 30.0, 30.0...

That evening, decisions were made which led to unavoidable consequences in the future. That evening, Molly Weasley could have still sent a Howler to her son. She decided against it. She decided not to be another encumbrance on the dark path her son was now traveling down.

That evening, Draco Malfoy could have stood up to his father and not sent a report about Potter and Snape. He decided not to fight. He accepted his role as the son of a Death Eater.

That evening, Harry Potter could have changed his course. He could have talked to Dumbledore, he could have asked to be taken out of the Dursley's care, or asked why things had turned out the way they did. But he didn't. He decided to go to the library and to research why Voldemort had become the person he was.

The world stood still that evening. Then it changed direction, for the good guys, for the bad guys, and for Harry Potter.


	5. Chapter 4

_**Title:** A sky, far, far away_

_**Author:** remind me to breathe a.k.a. Claire_

_**E-Mail:** claire(at)streber24.de_

_**Rating:** PG-13 (to be safe)_

_**Pairing:** none_

_**Time:** 1991, Harrys first year _

_**Disclaimer:** I own not a thing. Due to the fact that this story covers one of the years already written, the majority of the events and some of the dialogue comes straight from the book. _

_**Thanks to: **Healer Molly for thepatient and greatbeta work__

* * *

_

_Illusion of perfection _

_

* * *

_

_There is something greater than guilt, harder to bear than any pain: the knowledge that somebody sacrificed his or her life for you...that you are alive and they are dead. Severus remembered: she was wearing red earrings when they buried her. They were rubies, glittering in the sunlight…beautiful. But to him, they looked like drops of blood. He wished it would have at least rained on this day.  
From: Fragile. A True Love Story, by Amanda le Reay, London, year 2183.  
_

* * *

The days passed. They had their first transfiguration lesson, and while Professor McGonagall watched them cautiously, she remained fair. The trio noticed that there was often a teacher wherever they were, but to be honest, they didn't care.

"Remember when I mentioned breaking into Gringotts?" Harry asked one evening.

"Yeah – why?" Ron answered.

"I just remembered; someone was trying to steal something from Gringotts the day it was broken into. When Hagrid brought me there, he picked up something from a vault; he had to show the goblins a letter from Dumbledore to get to it. He called it 'You-Know-What' and said he'd lose his job if he told me what it was."

"Could they –?" Hermione asked.

"It's too early to be suspicious. The date is correct, isn't it?"

Ron rummaged through his bag, looking for his notebook with the newspaper articles.

"Let me see…robbery at Gringotts, yes, on the 31st of July, somebody tried to steal something from a vault that had been emptied earlier that day. Wasn't Gringotts supposed to be one of the safest buildings in England?"

"The safest – that's what Hagrid said about Hogwarts too," Harry whispered. "I think this is our first mission. What could be so important that you have to hide it at Hogwarts? It's not even bigger than my fist! If it belongs to Dumbledore, it would have been here already, there would have been no need to fetch it from Gringotts. That means it must belong to one of his friends or allies. It must be unbelievably valuable. No – not valuable, the burglar could have just taken gold. It must be powerful… or dangerous."

Hermione interrupted Harry. "Wait, Harry, let me take this down... A friend or ally of Dumbledore owns something powerful that mustn't get into the hands of the wrong people. It is probably hidden in Hogwarts."

"The third floor is forbidden to those who don't want to die a very painful death…" Ron murmured.

"You actually paid attention to Dumbledore's speech?" Hermione said, staring at him.

"I'm becoming neurotic, just like Harry."

"Hey!" Harry shouted indignantly, but then he looked pensive. "Wasn't Dumbledore's statement about the third floor a bit obvious?"

"Sort of- but no one knows about 'You-Know-What' but us," Ron said.

Hermione nodded. "So what do we do now?"

Harry unconsciously took on the role of leader of their small group.

"Research. We need to try to find out who Dumbledore's friends are, how often they are seen together and if they own an artifact per chance. If this artifact exists, we need to find out if it is dangerous. Then we research every possible and impossible means for warding and observing.  
On Halloween, there's a big feast so everyone will be distracted - so we will try to find out what is on the third floor that night. Depending on how close we come to You-Know-What, we try to protect it. If we get close enough that we can see what it is, we'll contact Snape or Dumbledore anonymously and tell them that it wasn't a challenge to get to it..."

"Till Halloween, okay. But this is our last big project. Our schedule is getting very full."

* * *

Two nights later, Albus Dumbledore received a strange message.  
_How many years of your past would you deny if the world could become more peaceful because of it?  
How many years of your future would you give for the same?  
_This message would be one of many that the members of the Order of the Phoenix would pin on the wall of their meeting room.

* * *

"Okay," Hermione said as she summarized her list. "There are three people who are friends with Dumbledore and own artifacts that would be the correct size. We have Alastor Moody with an eye through which you can see everything - even through walls. And we have Nicolas Flamel with a Philosopher's Stone which makes you immortal. Lastly, there is Lia Delacour with a Neptune's Eye, which makes gives people magical abilities."

"Which do you think is the most powerful or deadly?" Ron asked.

"Let's see, the Neptune's Eye can create armies of Muggle soldiers. But we all assume this is about Voldemort, so why should he make Muggles more powerful when he hates them?" Harry answered. "Immortality or information – what's more important to him?"

"Hagrid told us that Voldemort is living a half-life. What would I need first if that were me?" Hermione asked.

"You'll want to make sure you will survive. By the way, you should stop asking rhetorical questions," Ron said.

Hermione made a face at Ron and stuck out her tongue. "Thhhppt!"

"Do all of our discussions have to end like that?" Harry moaned.

"This discussion hasn't ended. What do we do now?" Hermione asked.

"We prepare to suffer a very painful death," Harry said with a grin.

"Harry!"

"Yes, Hermione?" he asked with an innocent smile.

"Aargh! Let's get going to the library. Harry - you cover Dumbledore's friends, see how regularly they meet. I think there is something we're missing. Maybe he's part of a group or something. Ron, you research half-existing beings, the Philosopher's Stone, and alternatives one could use to achieve immortality. I'll cover researching protection charms."

"Yes, Ma'am!" Harry and Ron saluted, earning a strange look from Dumbledore who had just arrived at breakfast.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "We should use a code word. Saying 'the Philosopher's Stone' will raise suspicion."

"Yes Ma'am!"

"Do either of you two idiots have any suggestions?"

Harry smiled. "Rock."

"What?" asked Hermione, perplexed.

"It's good, that's so obvious that people won't even pay attention to it," Ron said, nodding. "Rock is it."

Once again, Snape overheard parts of the trio's discussion while passing their table. He was just seconds too late to hear what this "rock" was they were talking about.

"Rock is it. That brings me to another topic. I want to put 10 galleons on rubies and sell my crystals," Ron said.

Granger looked in her notebook.

"You're good, Ron. Up to now, we've made about 114 galleons."

Snape walked over to where the children were sitting. "Just so you three are aware - gambling isn't allowed here. Detention at eight," Snape sneered.

They glared at him angrily.

"Sir, we weren't gambling," Potter murmured.

"Excuse me?"

"We weren't gambling," Harry said a little more forcefully.

He looked down at the little raven-haired boy and glared at him.

"Are you calling me a liar?" Snape spat.

"No, sir. But - "

"What are you doing then?"

Harry paused for a moment before answering. "Stock market business, sir."

"Excuse me?"

"Stock market business, _sir_."

"Detention for a whole week, Potter, for lying to a professor."

For a moment, Snape thought that Potter looked amused. For a moment, he had thought he had seen an "If only you knew"-glance. But he had to be wrong. Of course he was. Potter couldn't control his emotions _that_ well. He watched as the three students rushed away with their heads down.

"Why did you provoke him?" Snape heard Granger ask.

"To see if..."

Snape would never find out what it was the boy wanted to see. He did decide, however, that Hagrid should supervise the trio's detention.

* * *

"Look there," Hagrid said, "tha' silvery stuff tha's glistening on the ground, tha's unicorn's blood. Somewhere out here, there's a gravely injured unicorn. We'll try to fin' it and stop its sufferin'."

"Unicorn blood?" Ron stared at him. "Forcefully taken?"

Harry and Hermione looked at Ron questioningly. They waited until Hagrid was out of earshot and took their own route, accompanied by Fang, Hagrid's boarhound.

"It's something I found out with my research for the rock-project. If somebody drinks the blood of something so pure, he gains a half life – but it's a cursed life."

"Someone would have to be pretty damn desperate to do that..." Harry said. "We should try to alert the teachers and try to find out who it is. If they are desperate enough to kill a unicorn, you can bet they will stop at nothing to steal the Phil- I mean, the 'rock'. I'd suggest that we set a trap on the third floor which would dye the robes of the intruder and write a message on the back of their robes."

"Great idea, boss!" Ron said.

"Mars is unusually bright tonight," said a voice from behind them. Harry, Ron and Hermione turned around slowly and found a centaur standing there, gazing down at the trio. Hermione huffed loudly.

"Can't you centaurs just say what you really mean? No, that would be too easy… instead you live to annoy us with your idiotic star reading," Hermione said, irritated. Harry wondered why she was so angry with the centaur. She was probably still wound up from finding the unicorn blood earlier but Harry guessed she said what she did because she really hated such imprecise things as stargazing.

The centaur chuckled. "It's been a long time since I have seen foals like you. When the times become safer, we will have to meet once again. Bane will be overjoyed that someone finally dared to critique us without fearing our wrath."

Harry, Hermione and Ron looked at each other. Unbeknownst to them, they had just gained a new friend. Moreover, without knowing, they had all thought the same thing: "What the hell…?"

"Do you know," Harry asked finally, "where the injured unicorn is? We want to help him."

"It's dangerous to be alone in the woods, especially for you, young Potter."

"Maybe, but that isn't a reason for letting something innocent suffer."

The old centaur looked at the children for a long time. "You're right. It's not a reason. Follow me."

They walked for nearly an hour, deeper and deeper into the woods, until they could no longer see a path on the ground.

"Look," Harry whispered when they came into a clearing.

There, on the ground before them, was the wounded unicorn. They looked at it as it lay dying and they held their breath. Never had they seen something so beautiful, yet so tragic.

"Is there something we could do for you?" Hermione asked softly.

The unicorn turned its gaze upon the children. It stopped struggling, allowing the children to get nearer.

"I think it will let us try to heal it," Harry whispered, and the centaur behind them watched with growing respect while the foals did the impossible: They touched the unicorn's head while speaking healing charms.

"They know no limits, do they? So the limits don't apply to them," Bane said, who had walked up behind his old friend.

"Do you think it was right?" Ronan asked.

"To step in against fate?" Bane asked, smiling. "That is what the foals did. Do you know what is lurking in this forest?"

"Yes."

"Look."

As Harry, Ron and Hermione continued to try to heal the unicorn, a strange light came out of the horn of the unicorn. The light slowly intensified and began enveloping the children.

"They are now protected," said Bane as he watched the scene before him.

"They have a strange way of making friends, haven't they?"

"Yes, but they'll need every one they can get."


	6. Chapter 5

_**Title:** A sky, far, far away_

_**Author:** remind me to breathe a.k.a. Claire_

_**E-Mail:** clairestreber24.de_

_**Rating:** PG-13 (to be safe)_

_**Pairing:** none_

_**Time:** 1991, Harrys first year _

_**Disclaimer:** I own not a thing. Due to the fact that this story covers one of the years already written, the majority of the events and some of the dialogue comes straight from the book. _

_**Thanks to: **Healer Molly for the excellent beta_

* * *

_Not evil – just stupid_

* * *

_"Many years passed before we really realized how much they had burdened themselves, how much pain there was on their shoulders. We worried that they would lose their way because of the burdens we saw, but we only saw just a small part of what they really carried. Strength, Mister Weasley shouted once into my face, strength is when you keep yourself standing even if everybody else would understand if you broke down. I once thought this was arrogance. Now I believe it to be wisdom."  
Minerva McGonagall, from an interview in 'The Second War Against The Darkness"__

* * *

The trio never knew how lucky they were to get out of the forest without so much as a scratch. Snape was waiting for them to return by the front doors of the castle. However, on their way back, they met the Weasley twins._

"Ron-"

"Fred. George."

"We have to talk. Alone."

"Why? Do you have a problem with my being a Slytherin?"

"No, but – "

"Then leave me alone," Ron said.

"Ron Weasley!"

"Yes, Fred Weasley?"

"Come with us," the twins said in unison.

"No."

"We want to know what we did wrong," said George.

"What do you think you've done wrong?"

"_What do we think we've done wrong_? Please – you're in _Slytherin_!" cried Fred.

"I thought that at least you two would be a bit more unbiased than the rest," Ron said.

"What do you mean?"

"Are Slytherins any worse than anyone else? Am I the black sheep of the family now?"

"We never said – "

"But that's what you thought, isn't it? It's okay, just go ahead and believe that I'm evil. Just believe I now serve a man who killed the parents of my best friend and destroyed his life. Just believe I bow down before that lunatic. You know me best!"

"Ron! We never said… "

"That's true...you never said it. But did you suspect that I had turned evil? Did you think that I could turn to the dark side? Yes, you did. You say that Slytherins and Snape are the ones who are biased. But you're no better. Come on, Harry, let's go. We have to do some _dark_ things, have secret discussions about how to help the murderer of your parents. Hopefully he doesn't have a problem with us befriending a Muggleborn – sorry, Hermione – a Mudblood."

Without another word, Harry and Ron turned around and walked away. This was the first time in memory that Severus Snape had seen the Weasley twins speechless. Snape had just started to process what he had heard when he saw Draco Malfoy approach Harry Potter.

"Trouble in paradise, Potter?" drawled Malfoy.

"I strongly recommend, if you value your health, that you get out of our way, Malfoy," Potter snarled.

"Whoa, calm down, Potter. What if I don't want to?"

"Listen, Malfoy, I just left my brothers back there, speechless for the first time ever. Do you really think today is a good day to annoy me?" Weasley hissed.

Draco smirked. "Hey, look at this, the Weasel and Little-Potty are angry. And poor Potty, he has no Mummy to be with him…"

Potter flinched. Malfoy grinned.

"Is your Mummy dead, Potty? Don't be sad, she was just a Mudblood! A Mudblood-whore! Potty's Mummy was a Mudblood-whore...Potty's Mummy was a Mudblo – "

Without warning, Potter's fist smashed into Malfoy's face.

For some odd reason, Snape couldn't convince himself to come out of his dark corner and take points for the altercation. He watched as the children left.

Severus Snape didn't know what was happening in the trio's room later that evening. If he had, his opinion of Harry Potter may have finally changed.

"Did you see? I hurt him! I didn't want to...it was...hard to resist. I could do anything. I could hurt him, I could force him to do things against his will, I could ruin him financially..." Harry ranted while he savagely cut up potions ingredients.

"With power comes responsibility, Harry," Hermione said softly.

"Oh spare me your wisdom!" Harry looked down at his trembling hands. "Sorry…it's…I don't want to bear this responsibility. The problem is that the twins were right; I could turn to the dark side. Promise me, Ron, Hermione, if you see me going down that path, promise to stop me, before it's too late," he whispered.

"Harry – please, don't say such things. We love you!" cried Hermione.

"If you love me like you say, you'll stop me. Promise me."

Ron and Hermione glanced at each other, and then nodded their heads in unison. "We will, we promise."

"Thank you. Now, let's focus on Quirrell. Do either of you have any new ideas?"

Hermione sighed. She hated it when Harry changed subjects like that.

* * *

Two days later, Snape stared at Quirrell's robes pensively. They were oddly discolored and the words, "_I am looking for Eldorado," _were written across the back of his robes. Was there somebody else in the castle who suspected Quirrell? But who? A student?

* * *

Harry was walking alone through the corridors back to his room. He had just been in the library, looking for books that explained the use of unicorn ingredients in potions. Suddenly, he heard a noise from behind him; somebody was following him. He quickened his pace.

"Petrificus Totalus!" somebody whispered behind him, and before he could react, the curse hit him. He forced himself to keep his eyes open. Slowly he fell, his head crashing against the stone wall. His muscles remained frozen. One, two – now five or six cloaked persons came nearer and nearer. Their faces were disguised, so Harry focused on their clothes, physique, and hands. He forced himself to stay calm.

"Is Potter all alone?" one of them whispered.

"No friends to help him?" said another person. Harry cursed inwardly. He couldn't move, couldn't defend himself. "Calm down," he thought, "it can't be worse than Uncle Vernon."

The first hit was aimed at his stomach. Harry would have screamed if he had been able to control his mouth. "A punch in your stomach hurts far more if a curse hinders you from tensing up," shot randomly through his head. A knife appeared; the person holding it made sure that Harry saw how it carved into his skin, how blood started to trickle out of his wounds.

"Another lightening bolt for you, Potter. Beautiful, don't you think?"

A shoe met his face.

"They won't kill me. Stay calm, Harry. They won't kill me. Focus on the attackers."

Harry noticed that the knife used to cut him had a little dark spot on the blade, that the hand holding it was sunburned, that the fingernails were dirty, that the nearly flawless skin had a little moon-shaped scar…Odd, what you'll notice if you really pay attention. An especially hard punch brought him out of his musings. "Ron and Hermione are waiting for me," he thought. His stomach hurt. He tried not to think of the blood.

"We'll throw him in the Room of Requirement. In seven or eight hours, the binding spell will wear off. They won't find him if we wish for a hidden prison cell," one person said.

Harry looked at his attacker's shoes; they were black leather, they looked expensive. His assailants carried him through the corridors, hiding few times in a niche when somebody crossed their path; they also took care to bang his head against the stone wall a few times. Once on the seventh floor, a doorway appeared where it had been solid stone the moment before. Harry's attackers threw him in and then after shouting some insults at him, they left.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore picked a note from his desk.

_How will people remember you after your death? Will they remember as a hero who gave his life for what was right? As friend who could be counted upon? As a beloved family member? As a great teacher? As an idol? A tragic sacrifice? A deadly enemy? A traitor? _  
_  
_

* * *

Meanwhile, Harry Potter lay unmoving and injured in a room. Hogwarts continued to be known as the safest place on earth.

He didn't know how much time had passed; he just knew that everything hurt, that he couldn't move, and that he was in an unknown room called the Room of Requirement. How he wished he wasn't alone…how he wished he were in his warm, comfortable bed…Suddenly, he felt himself being lifted into the air – What the hell! The next thing he knew, he was lying in a warm bed. This _was_ the Room of Requirement…Harry wished for some light and pop! – a light appeared!

He wished he could move. Nothing happened. He wished for a blanket. It appeared. Harry understood; only material items would show up, he couldn't break the spell by just wishing. So how could he free himself? He would need his wand in hand and a mirror to direct the counter curse on himself. Pop!

"Finite," he tried to shout but it didn't work. His lips wouldn't move.

"Damn it! Do you need your voice to do magic?" Harry thought. "Dumbledore doesn't…" He waited a few minutes before trying again.

"Finite," Harry thought, focusing intently, but it still didn't work. "I have a lot of time to kill," he thought resignedly.

Hours later, he ran through the corridors to his room.

"You need to go to the hospital wing, Harry."

"Hermione, Ron – no. We'll do it on our own."

"Why won't you go?"

"I won't give them the satisfaction of knowing they hurt me. Besides, this is the perfect opportunity to practice healing charms."

"One day Harry, your pride will kill you," Hermione said stiffly.

"Funny, Malfoy told me the same thing," Harry chuckled darkly. "I suppose that could happen, Hermione. But that which doesn't kill me will make me stronger."

None of the trio slept well that night. For the first time, they realized how difficult and dangerous their path was.

"It was an illusion," Harry thought, "that everything here is perfect. It'll be our job to make it reality." His ribs hurt despite the fact that Ron and Hermione had cast many numbing charms on him. He hoped they weren't broken. From what he had read about SkeleGrow, it had to taste awful. As Harry lay there angry, desperate, and tired, he imagined his fist smashing into the face of that bastard Flint, imagined him falling down, imagined warm blood running down his hands. "Violence isn't the answer," he reminded himself, "revenge and injustice is wrong way to solve anything."

"This is crap," he said aloud into the air to no one in particular. "The hero of the story comes home beaten and bloody, nevertheless, he decides against revenge."

Why doesn't fate recognize that losing is neither romantic nor life changing nor poetically inspiring? Why doesn't fate realize that losing just sucks?


End file.
